


The Notorious

by EllerienSylvani



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Abduction, Alcohol, Alternate Canon, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, Spoilers, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllerienSylvani/pseuds/EllerienSylvani
Summary: [IMMEDIATE SPOILERS] No matter how noble the pamphlets made the job of Pathfinder sound, Ryder still was faced with the impossible task of creating a home in an hostile galaxy while keeping everyone happy. Reyes is eager to make a connection with the most influential figure in Andromeda, but the Pathfinder is not what he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

Though he had seen a great deal in his lifetime, the Tempest still managed to fascinate Jaal Ama Darav like few other technologies could. He desired to take the sleek space-vessel apart piece by piece to see how all the parts worked together. Still, he’d seen enough of Gil and Kallo’s arguments to know that it was not such a good idea. Gil was quite skilled; constantly adapting and improving the Tempest's hardware to keep the ship at peak efficiency was no easy matter.

Jaal sometimes snuck into to the ship’s core to watch Gil work, but he often asked too many questions. Gil was too polite to tell Jaal he was interrupting his work, but the alien could not resist curiosity.

As Jaal studied the Milky Way's technology and histories, his appreciation grew for the universe around him. It painted a holistic perspective that Jaal could scarcely explain. It was unfortunate then, the abundant suspicion that existed between the Angara and the Milky Way aliens.  


So much caution, so much fear.  


The eye-catching gleam of the Nomad on its elevated platform provoked a wince. Jaal remembered the last time he’d had the misfortune to ride in the vehicle during the team’s last jaunt on Voeld. The Pathfinder's less than ideal driving abilities rarely made for a pleasant ride. Veering tuns and high speeds through precarious clifftops weren't uncommon when she drove. It was impressive how well the vehicle held up, a testament to Gil's skill. The woman was something to behold on the battlefield, but her skill behind the wheel wasn’t so impressive. Peebee had laughed at Jaal once; it wasn’t easy for him to hide his discomfort when Pathfinder Ryder drove.

 

Hearing footsteps, Jaal turned, curious who was taking a walk so late in the evening. The subject of his thoughts, Pathfinder Ryder was making her daily rounds around the ship, as she always did. She paced towards him, but something was wrong. He hoped the Pathfinder would be willing to indulge his thoughts; but the harsh glower on her face suggested otherwise.

 

“We’re headed back to Aya. The Tempest will arrive in a few hours,” she stated, her feminine voice surly. “Will you let Evfra know that we'll be at the Resistance HQ soon?”

 

“Of course I will. Is there something wrong, Pathfinder?” he called, hoping he was not the target of her frustration, or at least that he hadn’t done anything to exacerbate it.  


The team had rescued Moshae Sjefa from the kett facility on Voeld a few days prior. While inside, they had discovered kett ‘exaltation’. The process was disturbing; turning innocent Angara into bloodthirsty soldiers was truly an act of evil. The harrowing discovery had left everybody on edge, so the team was doing their best to stay positive. It was harder for some more so than others.

 

“Nothing important, Jaal,” Pathfinder Ryder replied, coming to a stop in front of him.  


Jaal was silent. He had a way of observing his teammates with such intensity, as if he saw every thought flitting through. Despite her denial, the Pathfinder’s stiffened jaw gave her away.  


It was an alien concept to him to deny one’s emotions, but she was an alien after all. It was pointless among Angara to conceal emotions, but such wasn't the case among Jaal's alien comrades. Liam was the first who'd been eager to place everything in the open in an attempt to erase the borders between them. Everyone else however was wary, Peebee being the biggest offender.

A few moments of awkward silence passed; Ryder’s steadfast gaze fell to the floor. Something about Jaal’s calm presence made Sara Ryder want to open up to him. He did not press her or implore her to speak further, which was ironically what caused her thoughts to spill.

 

“Tann is pretty pissed off with me. Apparently, my ‘sarcasm’ has irked a few in the Nexus hierarchy. He said I need to _represent_ myself better- that stupid salarian doesn’t know the first thing about representation. Everyone thinks he’s a fool,” Ryder rambled. “Everything I do is for the Initiative but every damn time we stop at the Nexus, somebody has a complaint for me.”

 

Jaal frowned.

 

“Such is the nature of leadership,” Jaal told his leader. “No matter what choices you make, there will be those who are… unhappy.”

 

Ryder breathed a sigh at his words. She knew he was right, but it didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.  


“Don’t ignore your critics,” Jaal continued, “But don’t let them keep you from the good that you do, either.”  


Ryder turned her head away so that Jaal couldn’t see the whirlwind of emotion in her eyes. She hadn't known her father and predecessor well, but she knew the man would've had similar advice. Her father had loved to give advice, coupled with some thinly veiled criticisms as well.

 

What had Alec Ryder been thinking, making her Pathfinder? It was true that she was eager to learn and explore, but Ryder’s mind was far from tactical. Too often she became frustrated with those she sought to help, too often her emotions were a hindrance in the field. If he’d truly been a father to her, he’d know these qualities in her. In reality, she'd never known the man well.

 

“Guess I should try to avoid ruffling people's feathers in the future,” Ryder said, somewhat assuaged by her companion's advice.

 

Ryder heard some cross between a grunt and a snort coming from Jaal. She glanced at back at him, perplexed.

 

“Forgive me Pathfinder,” Jaal said, an odd expression on his face. “I wasn’t aware any of your Milky Way species possessed feathers of any kind… might I inquire further, or would that be rude?”

 

It took a second or two for the question to register in Ryder’s mind. Once it did, she couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter at Jaal's expense, much to his embarrassment.

 

“No… not real feathers. It’s an idiom,” she explained, amused. Getting to know a new alien species provided no shortage of awkwardly comical moments.

 

“I see… yes, Liam has already explained a few idioms to me. It seems that I’m… ‘barking up the wrong tree.’”  


“Uh… sure, Jaal,” Ryder allowed, giving an encouraging smile. He was trying, at least.

  


Ryder leaned over the railing next to Jaal, her posture having visibly relaxed. As the new Pathfinder, she often found difficulty allowing herself casual moments such as this, given the immense pressure upon her shoulders.

 

It was nice, but she couldn’t allow herself the moment for too long. Ryder straightened herself, preparing to finish her daily rounds about the ship.  


“One more thing, Pathfinder,” Jaal called as she turned away. Ryder stopped. His eyes were so compelling and full of emotion, she found herself holding a breath.

 

“Might I be allowed to… experiment with the Nomad schematics? I believe I may be able to find some worthwhile modifications. To help in our adventures,” Jaal added quickly, trying to deflect any suspicion.  


Ryder smiled.  


“Ask Gil.”

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the Tempest touched down on Aya’s surface, much to the whole crew’s relief. Since rescuing the Moshae, the Angara had been welcoming, and the crew was eager to explore what the city had to offer. Last time the crew had been there, the Moshae had requested some time to prepare the Vault on Aya. In the meantime, Ryder’s team performed the finishing touches on Voeld’s new outpost.  


Since her arrival to Heleus, Aya was one of the most beautiful planets Ryder had the privilege to discover. Misty waterfalls, a lush vibrant ecosystem, blue skies cut by streaks of grey… it was a pleasant change of pace. Much more pleasant than the icy landscape of Voeld, although the wintry planet was undeniably beautiful as well.

  


Jaal excused himself once everybody departed the Tempest.

 

“I still need to complete the mission reports for the Kett facility,” he explained. “ _Don’t_ leave without me.”

 

Peebee looked as if she were about to jump from her own skin. “I hear they have a museum here, and experts on the Remnant! I can’t wait to talk to them,” the asari scientist gushed.  


"I'll be at the bar if anyone needs me," Drack rumbled, several of the crew members uttering sounds of agreement.  


Ryder gave her team a nod and they dispersed, leaving her to find the shuttle indicated by the Moshae. Visiting the Vault on Aya would occupy a few hours, and she hoped any information discovered there would be useful in the fight against the Archon.

Liam stared dolefully after her, wishing that Ryder would kick back and relax a little more often. He wanted to get to know her, but it had proved difficult. Even when the crew was on shore leave, it seemed that their Pathfinder worked tirelessly. He knew she had many important jobs to do but still… it was a disappointment.

 

“Doing alright, Kosta?” Peebee asked, tearing Liam from his thoughts. The asari followed his gaze. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what he was thinking. Most of the team was aware of the soldier's boyish crush, much to Liam's chagrin.

 

“Yeah,” he said, trying to perk up. “Just wish we could all get to know each other better, you know? Everyone needs to relax some.”

 

Peebee smirked, linking her arm through his. “So let’s go to the bar with Drack, and the others,” she said. “Jaal’s been telling me about these Angaran intoxicants I want to try that you mix into sweet drinks. I hear they have a slow absorption rate. Come on, Kosta!”

 

* * *

“You had no right to keep this from me!” Moshae Sjefa lectured. Evfra may have been the leader of the Resistance, but even he was not immune from her chiding.

 

“It is an ongoing investigation,” explained Evfra. “I meant no disrespect.”  


Moshae Sjefa paused. “Did Jaal know?”

 

“Of course not. Neither did the human.”  


“Tell the human the truth of my capture. This may be our only route to the Archon,” the Moshae argued.

 

Ryder raised a brow, suspicious. What they had discovered in the vault of Aya would change everything about their mission. Evfra sighed, turning to the human outsider. Whatever it was, Evfra was not keen to let the Pathfinder know.

  


“One of my men helped the kett take her. A resistance member named Vehn Terev,” Evfra explained to Ryder, stony-faced.

  


“Why would a Resistance soldier capture her?” she asked, confused. From what she’d seen, the Angara seemed to all have a great amount of respect for Moshae Sjefa. The Resistance soldiers she'd worked with had revered the Moshae, and cursed the Archon for taking her prisoner.

  


“I don’t know,” Evfra admitted. “That’s why I kept it quiet. Vehn’s on Kadara Port now. My contacts are searching for him.”

  


The Moshae seemed offended. “Contacts? Those are our people who have given up on us!”

  


“And now our people are ruled by these ‘ _exiles_ ’ from your galaxy,” Evfra said, his imposing stare finding Ryder.

 

Ryder pursed her lips. She’d heard accounts all across the cluster about how dangerous the exiles were. It wouldn’t be an easy job to go to a planet full of people who hated the Initiative, and convince them to hand over a prisoner. ‘Easy’ never seemed to make its way onto the job description, Ryder thought.

 

In the vault, Ryder had found a light map, resembling the vault's map on Eos that had pointed to Aya. The map had showed them a planet- the command center of the terraforming network.

 

"The Archon showed this same planet to me when he was torturing, me,"Moshae Sjefa had said, mystified. "He called it Meridian."  


"What did he tell you about it?" Ryder had asked, equally perplexed.

 

"He only said he would access its true power, whatever the meaning. I believe he used a Remnant relic to display the map."  


Ryder needed that relic, and she needed to find the Archon to get it. If this Vehn Terev had communicated with the Archon, then she could convince him to reveal the Archon's location.  


Everyone has a price.

 

“We need to find Vehn and see if he can lead us to the Archon. I need to go to Kadara Port,” Ryder said decisively. The lead wasn’t a miracle, but it was just promising enough to give her hope.  


“I don’t like this,” Evfra said, skepticism in his eyes.  


“The Pathfinder is right,” Moshae Sjefa insisted.  


Evfra grunted, but couldn't argue with her. “Fine, but we do this my way. I’ll be in contact, Pathfinder. You’re dismissed.”  


* * *

 

Ryder didn’t know much about Kadara, besides the scraps of intel they’d gained from the Initiative and the Angara. The rumor was the exiles from the Nexus seized the planet from the Angara. After the uprising, the Initiative considered the exiles dangerous enemies.

 

Danger seemed to be a constant here in Heleus, that much was a given.  


After the Tempest’s supplies were replenished and the crew had finished browsing the markets (or the bar), they all met back on the docks. Suvi had found some ingredients for an Angaran recipe she was eager to try, which provided mixed reactions from the ship. Vetra seemed a bit disgusted, Liam excited, and Lexi was attempting to dissuade the science officer from trying the recipe. Jaal didn't help the situation, offering Suvi some pointers on how to prepare the snack.

 

Ryder was having a hard time focusing on their antics. A few months ago she’d have joked right alongside them but now, there was so much tension. If they found Meridian it could be the key to all their problems. She could activate the terraforming network, rendering the planets livable once more. The biggest obstacle standing in the way was the Archon.

 

Liam noticed her disassociated state. “Hey Pathfinder,” he said, pulling her from her thoughts. “People are getting excited about our movie night. It’s going to be great- we can all stand to have some more social time. You know, everyone really getting to know each other and all.”  


“Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Ryder spared as she chewed on her thumbnail. Liam seemed as if he wanted to keep the conversation engaged, but she was light-years away, so he let it be. In her faraway state, she missed the flash of disappointment that crossed Liam's face.  


As soon as they were safely off the planet, Ryder left the navpoint for Kadara with Kallo and retreated to her quarters. Her mind was swimming and she needed some alone time to process it all.

 

Her quarters were large and rather comfortable, but she often thought the room was wasted on her. On the rare occasion that Ryder found herself in her quarters, it was spent sleeping or studying. Even then, she scarcely took the time to enjoy the amenities the room had to offer.  


“You have new e-mail, Sara,” SAM announced.

 

“Thanks, SAM,” she replied, checking the terminal per his alert. Typically, Ryder didn’t care for others addressing her by first name, but SAM was different.  


There were three unread messages waiting for her eyes to see. One was from a Nexus journalist requesting an interview, the second message from Lexi imploring Ryder to eat her meals on a regular schedule. The third message was from Jaal, expressing his concern for the Moshae. She switched to her codex, an archive of information gathered by SAM throughout her travels. She liked to study it, see what information there could be useful to her as Pathfinder. Ryder didn’t know how long she spent reading, she didn’t remember when she stopped.  


Ryder was awoken by Suvi’s voice through her comm. “Pathfinder, we've reached Kadara. Kallo has placed us in orbit.”  


She lifted her head groggily from the desk, groaning as the muscles in her neck and back protested. Setting up the outpost in Voeld had been hard work- Ryder hadn’t much time for sleep the past few days. She must have missed the wake-up call.  


Strolling into Kadara Port wearing a uniform with the Initiative logo would be asking for trouble. Ryder opted for something more informal than usual. She shrugged on a leather jacket of black and reddish brown. Usually she would slick back her short, dark hair, but she left it in its disheveled nap state.  


She grabbed a steaming cup of black coffee from the galley and took two short swigs, leaving it half full on the counter.  


Ryder met up with Vetra on the bridge, who observed her new look.

“Blending in, are we?” asked the turian.

  


“Something like that,” Ryder replied. “Take us into the Port,” she ordered Kallo who promptly obeyed.  


As the ship began its descent to the planet, she watched hazy skies and towering mountain ranges against hollow blackness. The planet was decidedly close to the cluster’s native black hole, known as Ketos. The proximity wasn't enough to affect the Tempest's readings, but it would be unwise to come any closer.  


“Incoming call- patching it through,” Suvi informed the Pathfinder.

 

Evfra’s voice rang through the comms. “There’s been a development regarding the spy, Vehn Terev. Rendezvous at Kralla’s song. Your contact’s name is ‘Shena’.”  


“Shena,” Ryder repeated. “Got it.”

 

Kallo landed the ship with deft skill onto the port. Their view of Kadara from the Tempest’s sights was entrancing; skies of blended purple, orange, pink. Mountain peaks dipped through the atmosphere’s wispy clouds, captivating Ryder. It was one of her favorite parts of the job, getting to see a new planet for the first time.  


She disembarked, Vetra and Drack in tow. They hadn’t made it two steps off the Tempest before Ryder froze in her tracks.  


The severed head of a kett, impaled on a pike, was stuck into the ground. Ryder was coming to despise the kett, but this was overkill.

 

“The exiles have really stepped up their game since the revolt,” Vetra commented.  


The trio approached the Port, unsure of what to expect. Despite its reputation, Kadara Port was striking, bright neon lights illuminating the buildings. The buzz of activity greeted them, streets full of life. The air was pleasantly crisp unlike the humidity of Aya, though an odd scent lingered on the air.  


“Not too shabby for folk who got kicked off the station with nothing to show for it,” Drack said.  


Ryder scowled, thinking of the pirates and exiles making her job as Pathfinder more difficult than necessary. “All I see is the trail of bodies they left behind.”  


Vetra and Drack exchanged glances.  


“Come on,” Drack said. “Our supplier is waiting.”

 

“Do I even want to know?” Ryder asked the two.  


“Nope,” Vetra and Drack said in unison, sauntering into Kadara Port, leaving Ryder alone.

  
“Right…” Ryder muttered to herself. “Kralla’s Song... where are you?”

Descending the stairs into the marketplace, Ryder noticed a commotion down below. A crowd of people had gathered around a human woman shoved on the ground. The woman gave a strangling cry as the turian guard kicked her again and again, his plated shins striking open wounds. One of the guards shouted something about Sloane Kelly, and protection fees. The woman begged and pleaded but the beating continued.

 

Ryder knew little about Sloane Kelly, mostly that she was a loyal soldier before the uprising on the Nexus with a bad attitude. Ryder had expected degenerates, but someone being openly beaten in the streets by the guards was barbarous.  


An angaran civilian pointed her towards the entrance to Kralla’s Song. It was a bar, pretty popular if the swarm of exiles inside and out was any indication. A salarian approached as she entered, but Ryder managed to evade him, making a straight shot for the bar.  


Pulsating bass beats thumped throughout her chest as she entered, feeling the music from the bar in her chest. It was plenty crowded; several drunkards reeking of booze bumped into Ryder as she walked by, much to her annoyance. She didn’t see many Angarans around the bar. There was one, but he seemed far too inebriated to function, Ryder doubted that’s who she was meeting. Her contact must not have arrived yet.  


Ryder leaned against the countertop. She’d have ordered a drink, but the asari bartender was shouting at a krogan who didn’t care to pay for his drinks. The exchange was amusing, right up until the asari plunged a knife into her own bar top, her eyes icy daggers aimed at the krogan.  


Minutes passed, Ryder wondered how she would find the contact. None of the bar's patrons seemed conspicuous enough to draw her attention, and asking around for 'Shena' was a dumb plan. Uncertainty welled in her chest as she glanced up and down at her watch.  


“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”


	2. Chapter 2

"You look like you're waiting for someone."

Ryder paid the newcomer little mind, only sparing a peek for the man who'd interrupted her thoughts. He was an exile, didn't stand out much from the rest of them at first glance. Balmy black hair and ridged leathery armor snagged her attention.

The strange man glanced to the bartender, head tilting so subtly that Ryder wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been watching him. The asari snatched two glasses from the counter, slamming them onto the bar, pouring the liquid into each without a scant of deliberation. Ryder wasn't sure how the bartender didn't spill them all over the counter.

He collected the drinks, extending one to her, the ghost of a smirk on his face. The vile liquid overcame her senses even from inches away.

_Need to lose this guy before the contact shows,_ Ryder thought. She had hoped to avoid any attention from the exiles, but blending into the background wasn't something Pathfinders were known for. The heavy stress of an entire civilization sat atop her shoulders, weighing on her like a mountain. She was almost tempted by the drink, but having her mind clouded when the contact showed would be unprofessional.

"Not interested," Ryder dismissed, maintaining her icy wall. Her eyes found the window and stared hard in contempt, hoping the stranger would get the hint. From the corner of her eye, she saw him throw back one drink and then the other, setting both glasses down with a resounding thud. Ryder was barely able to resist an amused snort.

"Shena," he introduced, forcing her attention back. He penetrated her barrier by reaching for the hand hanging at her side and shook it, grip unyielding.

"But you can call me Reyes. I hate codenames."

Although Ryder could match most human men in height, Reyes had a few inches over her still, his cool air of confidence standing the tallest of all.

“I was expecting someone more… Angaran,” Ryder admitted, her flow faltered. He leaned against the counter top, looking her assuredly in the eye and gave a low laugh. He wore a full smirk now, one that complemented his features as if he was meant to wear such an expression.

“The Resistance pays me to supply information, among other things,” he said, demeanor nothing short of inconspicuous. Ryder glanced around the bar in search of eavesdroppers, but they had attracted no attention.

_Great,_ Ryder thought. She didn’t often care for working with hired money. They were usually the sort who’d sell you out without a second thought, and only for a better paycheck, honor be damned.

“So you’re a smuggler,” she pointed out.

Reyes smirked, leaving the statement unanswered. He straightened, sidling over to the window. Ryder found her feet following him, curious. A few sheets of glass was all that separated them from the harsh slopes of the Kadaran highlands. The purplish streaks of clouded skies lit the valley a strange, ethereal hue.

“Your man, Vehn Terev- word spread about what he did to Moshae Sjefa. Sloane has him in custody, and the people are calling for his execution. And Sloane... she's a woman of the people," he said with a sarcastic wave of his hand.

Ryder scoffed, still somewhat transfixed by the landscape. “Dress it up however you’d like. Sloane Kelly is a criminal.”

Reyes paused, contemplating her words. His expression was unreadable to her, his thoughts guarded. Ryder leaned in closer to hear his words.

“You’re Initiative," he hummed. "Sloane was part of the uprising on the Nexus. That places a fundamental barrier between you. I doubt she’ll give up on Vehn without a fight.”

“I’m taking him,” Ryder vowed. “With or without Sloane’s permission.”

Reyes chuckled, a glint of amusement lighting his eyes of molten honey. “We’re gonna be friends, you and I,” he said, warmth spreading to his words.

He leaned closer still. Their shoulders grazed, his forearm brushing her elbow as he continued. She caught the faint scent of warm whiskey on his breath. Ryder thought to make some witty remark, but couldn't.

“There might be another way to get to Vehn," he mused, an idea forming in his head. "You work Sloane, I’ll talk to the Resistance." Reyes pushed himself up off the rest, sauntering out of the bar as unexpectedly as he had arrived.

“Wait!” Ryder called after him, stopping Reyes in his tracks. “How am I supposed call you if things go south?”

He turned halfway to meet her eyes. Reyes winked and turned again, a kind of fiery energy in his step. Just like that, he'd left their rendezvous. Ryder wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do, nor what she was supposed to tell Sloane, if the rumors about her held true.

Ryder stood frozen by the window, more confused than before. How was she supposed to convince Sloane, the woman who’d seized control of Kadara Port, to give up her golden prisoner? And what was the deal with this Reyes, anyway?

She attempted to follow him out of the bar, but stopped cold at the bartender shouting after her.

“Hey!" the asari bartender snapped at Ryder. "You gotta pay!”

The two empty cups where Reyes had been still sat on the bar top. _That sneaky bastard left me with his bill!_

Ryder transferred the credits without a word, wanting to avoid an altercation. “Keep the change,” she muttered before hastening outside.

It had dimmed some outside, but that didn't detract from the Port's lively atmosphere. The markets off to her right had filled with traders and barterers. It didn’t take long for Ryder to locate the Outcast Headquarters further past the market. Guards stood just outside the large iron doors, sneering and waving guns at passersby.

When Ryder approached, they didn't spare her the sharp glares as she entered the Headquarters. Just beyond the door was a main passage, with some smaller storage rooms surrounding. Before the passage was the inner door, guarded by two hefty-looking krogan soldiers. They stomped in front of the inner door, blocking Ryder from the room. Sloane had quite a bit of security, but as an Initiative representative, Ryder's presence could be perceived as threatening.

“I’m here to see Sloane,” Ryder announced, earning a low grumble from one of the krogan. The two guards ushered her past the door, keeping a gun jammed into her back. One of them gave Ryder a hard shove, so she would be stumbling over when she came face-to-face with Sloane.

Sloane Kelly sat upon her makeshift throne, swiping deftly across an electronic blue screen. Her throne was elevated in such a way, that Ryder had to tilt her head up to see Sloane. She slouched, the window-light from Govorkam lighting the woman’s disfigured features. Sloane may have once been beautiful, though it would have been a hard kind of beauty. Even so, Sloane wore the battle scars and burns across her aged face with an air of pride.

“What?” Sloane demanded. Ryder could tell the Outcast leader wasn't one for many words.

“You must be Sloane Kelly. I’m-“

“I know who you are,” Kelly interrupted, her unnatural blue eye hard and piercing and full of malice. They stared at one another for what felt like minutes.

“So, what brings a Pathfinder to our humble port?” Kelly asked. She propped her leg up on her chair and lolled her head to the side, unafraid to be brazen. Both women came from a military background, where body language spoke a great deal. They each knew very well that neither woman had an ounce of respect for the other. With few words, a challenge had sparked the air.

“Vehn Terev. Name ring any bells?” Ryder asked, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed. Sloane sneered, leaning closer.

“What’s he to you? Don’t lie to me.”

“I need him so I can infiltrate a kett flagship,” Ryder explained, pride highlighting her own irritation. “You’ve obviously got no love for the kett- I’m doing you a favor.”

It was a dangerous card to play, Ryder knew. Sloane Kelly's jaw tightened in frustration at the insinuation that she was incapable.

“Kadara is an Angaran port. They want Vehn dead, and I want to keep them happy,” Sloane protested.

“This is bigger than local politics,” Ryder argued back, stepping forward in defiance.

“You don’t need Vehn. You need his intel. Talk to him, before I put his head on a spike,” Sloane Kelly offered dismissively, as if tossing Ryder her half-eaten scraps. Ryder bristled, her breaths becoming shallow. If Cora was there, she'd have reminded her Pathfinder to keep a clear head and stay calm. Unfortunately, she didn’t have her second-in-command there to calm her.

"You are arrogant to presume you have the right to judge Vehn Terev. That duty belongs to the Resistance- not you."

Sloane's look of contempt had evolved into a hateful, barbed glare. Ryder's taunting had struck a nerve, and she knew it had been a mistake.

The Outcast leader tensed as if to stand, shout- but she remained deathly still. Ryder held in a breath, refusing to break.

"Get out," Sloane hissed through clenched jaw.

Ryder curtsied, taunting glare never breaking from Sloane's scowl. She turned on one heel and stalked out without a word.

Leaving the Headquarters, Ryder cursed herself. Her annoyance was long past bubbling; it had broken free from its dam and spilled, burning hot into anger. She had behaved nothing like how a Pathfinder should, and she was excruciatingly aware.

“That could have gone better,” Ryder mumbled.

"Perhaps Mr. Vidal had more luck," Sam provided.

Ryder suspected that Reyes indeed had more luck than she. He was a silver tongue if she’d ever met one. Ryder dreaded facing him again; she may have blown her opportunity to retrieve Vehn Terev, and all because of a quick temper. It had been undiplomatic behavior; Alec wouldn't have accepted her failure. What would Reyes think?

“Pathfinder! Over here,” a familiar voice called.

_Speak of the Devil..._

Sure enough, there stood Reyes coolly against one of the market stands, arms crossed. He'd blended so well into plain sight, Ryder wouldn't have noticed had he not called out to her. She wondered how long he'd stood there, watching her fume outside of the Outcast Headquarters.

Ryder approached, embarrassed.

“Have a nice chat?” Reyes asked.

Ryder tried to force down some of the tension that still tingled in her shoulders. “I think Sloane likes me,” she joked. Sloane obviously did not like her.

Reyes chuckled, which wasn’t the reaction she'd been expecting.

“Don’t worry,” Reyes told her. "I may have found a workaround.”

"A workaround? You mean to go around Sloane?" she asked, confused.

Reyes grinned, Ryder got the feeling she was missing some kind of joke.

"I'm betting Sloane didn't offer much to work with," Reyes guessed.  


"She said I could talk to Vehn Terev before she executed him, but that's all. I doubt Evfra would be happy with that," Ryder said, avoiding the subject of her conversation with Sloane. Reyes raised a brow.

"That doesn't surprise me. Sloane doesn’t have a good track record for seeing reason."

"Well, why have me talk to Sloane in the first place if you were trying to work around her?" she asked, annoyance seeping back. Ryder wasn't sure how she'd ended up working with an exile, and she wasn't fond of the idea that Reyes might be toying with her. Could he be trusted?

Reyes seemed unfazed by her question. He placed an arm on Ryder's shoulder, guiding her along an alleyway at a slow pace. She moved instinctively for her gun, only to find empty space. Weapons weren’t allowed in Kadara Port- with the exception of the guards, of course.

"Call it a distraction," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling. "The guards were distracted by your presence in the Headquarters. Gave me enough time to grab this."

Reyes reached for her gloved hand and placed something there, closing her fingers back. It was metallic, oddly shaped.

A device.

“This,” he began, “Will eat through whatever Sloane is using to lock him up, and it can’t be traced back to us. A Resistance Agent will be waiting to pick Vehn up.”

“This seems kind of risky,” Ryder said, unsure. “What if Vehn tries to make a run for it?”

“That is covered,” Reyes said simply. "You focus on what you need from Vehn." He seemed confident enough though, so Ryder decided to take his word for it. They came to a stop next to a partially concealed opening at the end of the alley.

"What's this?" she asked.

“A maintenance shaft. I'm sending the access code to your omni-tool. That’ll get you inside. You should be able to handle the rest.”

Ryder quirked a brow. “There’s still the matter of the bill you left me with.”

He chuckled, stepping away. “I’m usually the model gentlemen,” he said.

“I don’t believe you,” she retorted.

“That’s because I’m lying.”

She found his eyes, pale brown. Neither moved for what could have been a millisecond or several minutes- it was hard to tell.

“When you’re done, come find me at Tartarus. First round’s on me. _I promise.”_

He turned the corner and just like that, Reyes was gone again. Ryder stared into the maintenance tunnel, as if taking in her surroundings for the first time.   


There was something about Reyes’ parting statement that made her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t place the feeling.

Ryder slipped inside the tunnel, careful to avoid attracting attention. The passage led up through a ceiling, into a small room. She peered around the corner. At first glance it was only a storage room, but a small cell was tucked into the corner. It was a compact prison, isolating without much space to move around. Vehn was locked behind thr bars on a stony bench, sullen.

“Where is the Archon’s ship?” Ryder demanded as she approached the cell, skipping a greeting. There was no point in dragging this out longer than it had to be.

“Hmm… this a new interrogation tactic? Sloane’s getting lazy,” the Angaran commented, with a cold glare. The Angara were so expressive, it was if they exuded their emotions. She had witnessed some of Jaal’s glares, but this Angaran’s was particularly icy.

“If you help me, I can get you back to the Resistance,” Ryder said.

Vehn’s expressed weakened, and she could see he was already beginning to crack. The Angara had a tough exterior, but it was plain how much he was suffering in this prison. He appeared sickly, weak.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you," Vehn Terev admitted. "I received my orders from a transponder, and I was told to dispose of it. I buried it outside the city, in the badlands.”

"Do you remember where you buried the transponder?" she asked.

"Yes, I have the coordinates. If you find the transponder, you could use it's frequency to triangulate the signal."

“Send me the coordinates. This is your way out of here,” Ryder said, slipping her hand through the bars to hand him Reyes' device. She turned the way she came as soon as Vehn took the device from her hands. “A resistance contact will be waiting," she barked, eager to leave the area before she was discovered.

“Don’t you want to know why I did it? Why I betrayed the Moshae?”

Ryder stopped, her legs willing her forward, but her heart curious. She thought of all the possible reasons why Vehn would have betrayed his own people the way he did. A good Pathfinder would listen every side of the story, taking everything into consideration.

She remembered the kett facility. She remembered watching as the helpless Angara turned into a monster, a heart of innocence morphed into a black pit of hatred and murder. Ryder's lip curled in disgust.

“I don’t care,” she spat, leaving the cell through the maintenance shaft.

Ryder paced back through the market. She spared a glance where Reyes had met her earlier outside the Outcast HQ, half expecting him to be there, but the spot was vacated. A shady looking vendor stood near instead, trying to catch her attention to lure in some credits.

She was supposed to meet back up with Vetra and Drack in the market, but a jittering throng of exiles blocked her path to the bar. Guards, traders and other exiles alike were all crowded about something atop the city grates. Ryder peered around the crowd, trying to see the center of attention.

A metallic, putrid smell filled her senses all at once. The crowd parted some, and she caught a glimpse of a bloodied Angaran corpse on the ground, face-up in a pool of royal blue blood. Glazed, dead eyes stared through her, void of feeling.

It made a bit more sense why Jaal had requested to stay on the Tempest while Ryder conducted her business on Kadara.

The guards stood around the body, trying to quiet the commotion and observe the scene for any signs of the murderer. Whispers traveled throughout the crowd of stewed exiles.

“The Charlatan’s at it again,” someone grumbled quietly, just audible enough for Ryder to hear.

“This has been… the seventh murder, now,” one of the guards said.

She had heard the Charlatan’s title murmured a few times in the streets since her arrival to the Port. A mysterious figure, leader of the Collective, rival to Sloane. None knew his true identity, and none knew where to find him.

It all seemed very dramatic.

She found Vetra and Drack lingering near Kralla’s Song, chatting quietly with each other. The slain corpse in the middle of the port had created some uneasiness; it was good to see them again.

“Hey guys,” Ryder greeted as she approached. “How’d your uh, business deal go?”

“Our totally legitimate business deal went off without a hitch,” Vetra boasted.

Drack grunted. “Benefit of bringing a krogan along.”

“Also, I picked up some popcorn and graxen, for Liam’s movie night!” Vetra said, proudly displaying her goodies.

“That’s great!” said Ryder, although she wasn’t entirely sure what graxen was.

The group made their way back to board the Tempest, and Vetra showed everyone her movie night snacks. Suvi, who was fond of reminders of their old home, was particularly excited.

“So, how’d it go in Kadara Port?” Liam asked. “Is the violence as bad as they say over there?”

“Worse, probably," she said with a grimace.

"Oh, and Ryder," Suvi began. "Director Tann wanted you to give him a call as soon as you arrived back on board."

Ryder's already poor mood soured at the mention of Tann. It wasn't a secret among the crew that the Pathfinder didn't get along well with the Nexus Director.

"Right," Ryder mumbled, rubbing her temple. "I should probably go speak with Tann, then. I'd like everyone in the meeting room in half an hour. Cora, Liam, come with me."

 

“We’re grateful you’ve located ark Leusinia and ark Natanus- truly. We have two outposts established already, but it’s not enough, Pathfinder,” Tann’s voice rang out in the meeting room. Cora and Liam stood on Ryder’s either side, listening to the Director’s lecturing.

“I understand, Director,” Ryder began. “The kett have been a dangerous presence since we arrived here. I’m planning a mission against them that will-“

“I appreciate your initiative, but these outposts need to be your team’s first priority. Addison has been pestering me for days about the limited space on our outposts. We need to keep the cryosleep wake-ups on schedule. This is your job, Ryder. Remember that.”

With that, Tann’s vidcom image disappeared with a flash and Ryder was left with an angry scowl on her face.

"What a prick..." muttered Ryder, earning a chortle from Liam. He cut off his laugh at the sight of the Pathfinder's grim expression, shifting uncomfortably. Cora's face was unreadable as she stood firm at attention.

"How am I supposed to maintain outposts across the Cluster, with an armada of aliens that want to destroy them all?" she asked her squadmates, clenching her fist against the iron rail.

"With respect, Pathfinder. Our mission is to establish these Outposts and protect them. Why not send a military team to the Archon?" asked Cora, her tone professional.

Ryder shook her head. "The Nexus isn't going to send a single ship to the Archon. It's too risky. We're the only ones in the Initiative who can actually do something," she argued. Liam nodded in agreement.

"We can't just go against the Director's orders," Cora pointed out. Ryder sighed.

"No," she agreed. "We can't. But we can do missions on the side... you guys up for some overtime?" Ryder asked, a hint of levity coloring her voice.

"Hell yeah," Liam exclaimed. "It's been nothing but overtime since we arrived in Andromeda, anyways. We might as well go after the Archon and save the galaxy too, right?"

Ryder smiled, pleased with his enthusiasm. She looked to her second-in-command. "Well, Cora?"

Cora was silent for a moment, her eyes adamant yet filling with determination.

"Such is the life of a Huntress," Cora said. “Let’s do it.” Ryder clapped them both on the back, grinning.

 

“So, you think this kett transponder will lead us to the Archon, then?” Jaal asked, seeming unsure. It was clear that he’d been hoping for a better lead to the Archon.

“If we get our hands on that transponder, maybe we can trace the signal somehow,” Cora mused aloud.

“Exactly,” Ryder agreed with her second. “Vehn says he buried the transponder in the badlands. He may be a slimy traitor, but I don’t think he was lying to us. Gil, I’m going to need you to get the Nomad prepped for Kadara.”

Gil nodded. “Right-o, boss.”

Liam piped in. “Once Gil’s got it prepped, I can have it parked out in the slums, ready to go for you, Pathfinder.”

Ryder nodded in acknowledgement.

“So, who was this Resistance contact?” Peebee chimed in. “Also, I overheard in the Port that Sloane Kelly was going to hold an execution for Vehn Terev. How did you get him out?”

Pursing her lips, Ryder considered how to answer Peebee’s question.

“Right- Shena, my contact, he’s a human smuggler. His real name is Reyes Vidal. He gave me some sort of device that allowed Vehn to-“

“Wait, back up,” Vetra interrupted. “Your contact is _Reyes_?”

Ryder hesitated. “You know him, Vetra?”

The turian shrugged. “I may have done business with him a few times. Reyes is one of the most reliable smugglers out here in Heleus. I’m surprised he’s working for the Resistance.”

“I don’t know if it’s ‘working for’ so much as supplying information for credits,” Ryder replied. “Still, his intel was valuable and we could be seeing more of him. There's been a string of murders in Kadara Port, and SAM thought Reyes would have some leads to find the killer.”

"You mean that Angaran that was killed?" asked Drack, breaking his silence. She noticed Jaal's wince from the corner of her eye.

“Why bother with Kadara Port?” Peebee asked. “I thought we were focusing on this Archon guy. The exiles betrayed the Nexus, why would we be helping them?”

Ryder tapped her screen, generating a hologram of Kadara above the meeting table. The blue image bathed the group’s faces in pale light.

“True, but it’s going to take some time to get what we need from the transponder. Besides, both Tann and Addison are up my ass right now about these outposts. It may be a planet of exiles, but it’s still a planet viable enough to live on. If I can resolve some of this tension between the Outcasts and the Collective, all the better. The last thing the Initiative needs is another failed outpost.”

A hum of agreement traveled about the room. Their primary goal was to find their people a home. The Archon was standing in the way of that, but he wasn’t the only obstacle in Heleus. Such was the burden of exploration, and pathfinding.

“So, where’s this ‘Reyes’ guy now?” Liam asked.

“He asked me to find him at Tartarus,” Ryder told the group. She left out the part about the round of drinks he’d promised.

“Isn’t Tartarus that trashy night club out in the slums of Kadara?” Drack asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” admitted Ryder. She had a lot demanding her attention these days.

“Guess that’s one way to lie low,” Vetra mumbled.

“Alright. So our next move is to go see Reyes for some insights into the murders on Kadara, and then find the kett transponder,” Ryder declared. She drew out the plans for Kadara in her mind as she stared over the planet's hologram.

After spending another hour or so on the Tempest, gathering their energy for Kadara, Ryder returned to the Port, this time fully armed. Vetra and Drack joined her again to the surface, as Jaal was completely opposed to setting foot on the planet, Cora and Peebee were deep in their research projects, and Liam was off working on something with Gil.

The trio made their way to the Kadara slums, accessed by a lift that descended down below the Port. It was fascinating, in a way- a city underneath a city. If Kadara Port had seemed bad, the slums were awful. There seemed to be a strung out junkie in every dark alley and the whole place carried a putrid odor. Waftings of shit mingled with the rotted scent of the sulfur springs nearby, settling a nauseous feeling in her stomach. Ryder could hear agonized wailing in one direction, and loud pulsing dance music in another.

“There will always be places like this,” Drack growled as they turned through the alleyways. “Doesn’t matter what galaxy you’re in.”

Ryder was inclined to agree with him.

As soon as they stepped inside Tartarus, Ryder was eager to leave. The nightclub was illuminated by flashing red lights dulled by a hazy clouded atmosphere. The pounding music thumped in her ears, dancers moving vigorously in cages all around the club. It was crowded, more bodies bumping about than the bar in the Port.

“Doesn’t have Kralla’s view, but I like it," said Vetra. Ryder grimaced.

Her eyes sought out Reyes, but she didn’t see her new contact anywhere in the club. She checked the bar twice, just to be sure he wasn’t lingering there, but the space was empty. She weaved through the crowd, heading for the bartender while Vetra and Drack staid back, keeping an eye on their Pathfinder from afar.

It wasn’t your average Andromeda bar in the slightest- the bartender and his staff were barred from the rest of the club… literally. Hefty metal bars stretched all the way around the bar keeping the customers away, and Ryder had a feeling it wasn’t for decoration.

“What’s your poison?” asked the man behind the bar, eyeing her oddly. The flashing red lights danced across his face, concealed mostly in shadow.

“I’m not picky,” she replied.

“First round’s on me,” the bartender said, pouring something out into a metal canister. “A Pathfinder is certainly more reputable than my usual clientele.”

It was strange being recognized nearly everywhere she went, something she’d have to get used to. Back on Earth, her father was well known and so was she to a degree, but not like in Andromeda.

Ryder breathed in as she brought the cup under her nose- tequila, she guessed by the aroma, and tossed it back expertly. It burned going down, leaving behind a pleasant warmth in the curve of her chest.

“Our mutual contact is waiting for you. In that room, there,” said the bartender, gesturing with his eyes behind Ryder. She turned her head, following his glance. A closed door off to the side of the nightclub caught her eye, hidden in plain sight. Her chest fluttered a bit when she saw the door, and she craved another drink.

“Right. Thanks,” she mumbled back, attempting to find the best path to the door through the crowded nightclub.  

After tripping on a handful of drunk clubbers, Ryder stopped in front of the door, preparing to request access from her omni-tool. She took a deep apprehensive breath, wondering the source of the anxiety that had pitted in her core. Before she could request access, the door opened for her, and she took a step back in surprise.


	3. Chapter 3

“Tell her to call later,” Called a familiar voice. “I’m drinking, and, bring another bottle.”

Ryder strolled inside past the Asari waitress, forcing Reyes’ attention up. He seemed surprised for a brief moment, but the expression was gone before she could stop to think about it.

“Ryder,” Reyes greeted, rising to his feet to meet her. “Glad you found me. I hear Vehn Terev made it off Kadara. He’s a free man, thanks to you.”

Reyes shook her hand under the guise of professionalism, though his hand lingered an odd second more.

“You helped. A little,” she teased.

“Always nice to be recognized,” he purred, beckoning her to take a seat by the table with him. She did so, her guarded mannerisms faltering.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ryder. “I seem to recall a promise that remains to be fulfilled.”

“Of course,” said Reyes, chuckling. Ryder felt the warmth from her last drink ebbing some, but she was eager to keep the buzz going. He poured two cups of wine, emptying his bottle, and offered one to her.

Ryder remembered briefly the last time he’d offered her a drink, how she’d barely felt the burn of the whiskey after he appeared out of thin air. The two clinked their cups together once again.

The wine was bitter, an oaky aroma filling her senses to the brim. She wondered how long Reyes had been drinking- the bottle hadn’t been full, but she could barely detect any levels of inebriation from him.

“There’s something I was hoping to ask you about, once you arrived here,” he began, easing back into the sofa nonchalantly. Despite herself, her stomach made a fluttering sensation, but she chalked it up to the alcohol.

“Oh?” she asked, wondering what this could possibly be about.

He watched her, seemingly enjoying the woman’s reactions. “Our paths crossed in the matter of Vehn Terev, and they will go their separate ways, if you so decide. I think it would be a waste, however.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, sure he had some idea or other up his sleeve.

“We help each other out. Kadara may be a planet full of exiles but it’s a planet that supports life- something that the Initiative desperately needs. You want to put an outpost here, surely, but… well don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not exactly liked here in Kadara Port. Quite strongly disliked, I might even venture to say.”

“Ouch,” she mumbled.

“What I’m saying is, you need a friend, someone in Kadara Port. I can be that guy. You need intel, you come to me.”

Ryder narrowed her eyes, suddenly wishing her head was a little clearer. “What are you getting out of this little arrangement?”

“I care about business,” Reyes began. “Believe me, I want the situation on Kadara to be resolved as much as you do. You can’t establish an outpost until things between the Outcasts and the Collective are solved, and once that happens, my affairs thrive. It makes sense, you must admit.”

Ryder suppressed a groan. Just smooth things over between two deadly gangs at each other’s throats, no big deal. “How do you suggest I solve that, then? You think I should back the Outcasts or the Collective?”

“I consider myself a free agent, and so should you,” Reyes told her vaguely. “Take the smaller missions, and the bigger picture will unravel.”

“So,” she began, swirling her cup to aerate the drink, “Speaking of intel, there’s a fresh body outside Kralla’s. SAM thought you might have some insight.” 

“Yes,” Reyes agreed. “There have been murders in the Port for some time now. This would be… the seventh, now.”

“Some of the locals are calling it the Charlatan’s handiwork. You think the Collective could be behind these murders?” she took another sip, feeling the warmth in her face and chest swell. She watched carefully as he spoke.

“I don’t buy it,” Reyes said, with a charged expression. His eyes like honey, the curve of his jaw handsome; steep but not sharp. “The Charlatan is discreet, careful. Whoever committed these murders wanted the bodies found. They’ve been left in the Port, for all to see. Why?”

“Could be making a statement,” Ryder mused. “Or could just be the result of living in a pirate-run town.”

Reyes shook his head in disagreement. “The killings have been too systematic. No- if I was a betting man, and I am, I’d say it was the Roekaar.”

Ryder frowned in confusion. She wasn’t sure if it was her tipsiness but it took her a moment to piece together his words. She hadn’t had any run-ins with the Roekaar since the Pathfinder team had last travelled to Havarl. Besides, the Roekaar were infamous for shooting her on sight, which hadn’t happened yet in Kadara Port.

“Why would Roekaar be in Kadara Port?” she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

“It’s Angaran built and before Sloane, Angaran run. I think the Roekaar came here looking for new recruits and things got… out of hand.”

Of course, that _did_ make sense. “An Angaran port run by aliens would be a prime target their cause,” she agreed. Reyes was sharp, more so than she’d given him credit for. She glanced at him, wondering how he’d come to such a conclusion.  She had underestimated him.

“Problem is,” began Reyes again, “I’ve got no proof and the Resistance doesn’t want to antagonize the Roekaar, for good reason.”

“Guessing that’s where I come in?” Ryder ask, piquing a single brow. Reyes tilted slightly closer, lowering his voice.

“You did ask, did you not? I would need that fancy AI of yours to scan for evidence that could implicate the Roekaar. People are scared about these murders, Ryder. This is your opportunity to win friends in Kadara Port,” he whispered in his husky voice. He wasn’t wrong about winning friends, something she needed to do if she was going to establish an outpost on the planet.  It would sent Tann in a tizzy, surely.

Ryder smirked, finishing off her drink. “I sound pretty integral to this plan.”

Reyes matched her smirk. “SAM is integral. You’re a bonus.”

“Hey I haven’t agreed to help you yet,” her tone light and flirtatious.

“I feel good about my chances,” he gave, tone as light as hers.

Ryder considered asking for a top off on her drink, but she set the cup down with a sigh.

“Right then,” she stated, back to business. The mirth left her eyes, replaced with determination. Reyes noticed. “I should get started.”  

-

As promised, the Nomad was prepped and waiting for them outside the Warden’s office. The trio clambered inside, the navpoint for the murder scene marked on her Omni-tool.

They drove past steaming sulfur springs- extremely toxic and undoubtedly the source of Kadara’s horrible odor. The steam was so thick, it almost seemed as if the springs themselves had been set aflame.

“I bet I could drink it,” Drack declared.

“Drack. No.” Lexi piped in over the comm.

“So, no skinny dipping?” Ryder asked, grinning.

“No dipping at all!” insisted Lexi, while the crew just laughed and Drack grunted approvingly.

“I bet it tickles,” Drack said.

                As filthy and corrupt as the planet’s inhabitants were, Kadara really was strikingly beautiful. Warm purples lit the sky, while the brilliant blue bodies of water caught Ryder’s eye. Billows of smoke off the highly toxic water surface was an unusual sight, but still fascinating to watch.

                A few klicks northwest of Kadara slums, Ryder found the navpoint for the murder scene provided by Reyes. Luckily, the transponder seemed to be a short distance away. The buildings were at the edge of a sulfur spring, a short trek up the hill.

                There were a pack of exiles camped out in some of the buildings, and while they seemed uneasy by the Pathfinder’s presence, they did not bother the team.

                A pile of disheveled mud under one of the buildings caught Ryder’s attention. She crouched onto her armored knees, using her hands to shovel the thick black mud aside. Sure enough, she pulled the electronic pad from the ground, doing her best to scrape the grime off.

                “That thing’s busted,” Drack grumbled.

“Looks that way,” Ryder agreed. “We should give it to Gil and see if he can give it some juice.”

“Once complete, this should provide us with the Archon's location. And in turn, Meridian’s.” chimed SAM.

“Time to check out this crime scene,” Ryder said, lifting herself off the ground and dusting her armor. Their target was on the other side of the sulfur spring, an Initiative prefab distanced a bit away from the other buildings.

“Reyes, I’m at the crime scene,” she announced over their comm link.

“Great,” Ryder heard the smuggler’s reply. “I've got intel on the dead guy. Krogan male. Went by the name of Zear. His frontal plate was pried off before he was shot to death.”

“They wanted him to suffer…” muttered Ryder, disgusted.

“Not one of mine,” Drack told her, looking around the room. From the outside it was a regular building, but the grisly inside said differently.

“Do your scanning thing,” said Reyes without acknowledging her statement. “Look for anything that might lead us to the killer.”

The whole place was in complete and utter disarray. Bottles and random pieces of tech were strewn about the room. Chairs toppled over, a broken coffee table.

“Clearly was a struggle in here,” Ryder commented. She lifted her foot, hearing her armored boot sticking to the blood spatters slicked across the floor. It was dried around the edges, but there was so much blood that it had not been able to dry fully, pooled up on the hard floor. A couple of tracks were made in the blood, shaped like hooves.

“This is bad,” she heard Vetra mumble from a few feet away.

“These tracks are distinctly Angaran,” SAM stated. “A portion of the blood is Angaran as well.”

“Angaran blood. Matches your Roekaar profile, Reyes,” she told him over the comm.

“DNA cannot identify political affiliations,” SAM replied, to which Ryder had to suppress a snort.

“Keep scanning,” Reyes insisted through her comm. “We need hard evidence.”

They found the stale body in the next room; Krogan male, just as Reyes’ intel had described. It was a grisly sight- the blood was everywhere and pieces of the Krogan’s plates had indeed been torn off. Thankfully they had helmets to filter out an odor that was surely less than pleasant.

The team searched for another several minutes before Ryder needed to step outside. She stalked back out, trying not to create more footprints to throw off their investigation, and released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding once outside.

She glanced down, something caught her eye.

More footprints, leading out. On top of a crate was a single ceremonial knife, blood smeared across the blade.

“Knife. Killer must have dropped it on the way out…” she breathed, still connected to the comm, turning it through her hands.

“It’s Shelesh, the Angaran language. ‘A home filled with strangers becomes a prison.’” SAM translated. _Damn… that sounded pretty Roekaar, alright._

“Let’s pay our local Roekaar a visit,” she heard Reyes say.

“You know where they are?” asked Ryder doubtfully.

“I wasn’t sitting on my _ass_ this whole time. I’m looking at the place right now,” Reyes said indignantly, his tone surprising Ryder.

“Send me the coordinates,” she said, climbing back into the Nomad, Drack and Vetra following.

They reached the navpoint about ten minutes later, a small unassuming hut right next to the path, concealed mostly by the surrounding hills. Neither of the trio spoke the whole way there, though Ryder caught Vetra and Drack exchanging glances more than once.

“This is it,” said Drack as the Nomad neared the small building. “Reyes actually gonna show up?”

Ryder had been wondering the same, if she was being honest with herself. Reyes had said he was at the navpoint but she didn’t see her smuggler contact anywhere.

The trio entered the door, finding the room strangely empty. Reyes was nowhere to be found.

“Reyes should be here,” Ryder mumbled, confused.

“So,” Vetra said suggestively from behind, “Is there something going on? You and Reyes?”

Her words forced Ryder around, protesting “That’s not-“ but she was interrupted by the sound of another door opening. Several Roekaar soldiers emerged, weapons ready and aimed at them.

“Don’t move!” one growled, seizing Ryder roughly by the arms and jamming the gun into her back. Ryder stood, watching Vetra frown and Drack grumble. Slowly, she raised her hands above her, keeping her weapons holstered.

Vetra and Drack followed suit without a word. The two knew that, gun or no, Ryder could wipe them all out in seconds.

Someone barked an order and they were led through the door, into the bowels of the Roekaar hideout. Ryder wondered if Reyes had sold them out, but she didn’t understand why the thought angered her as much as it did. They had agreed to help each other. Ryder didn’t want to make a habit of being betrayed.

Several Roekaar down below were sparring, chatting, or glowering hatefully at the three alien prisoners. They were led through the crowd, where an Angaran female was waiting for them. She stepped forward, glancing up and down at her prisoners.

“I don’t need to tell you what happens next,” she simply said, brandishing a knife, a knife she’d seen scarcely an hour before.

“So it’s true…” Ryder mumbled. “You murdered innocent people.”

The Angaran woman’s hatred was apparent, her tone shrill, rage growing by the second.  “Invaders and sympathizers are _not_ innocent. I will protect my home!”

“Don’t let your hate poison you! We can coexist,” Ryder urged, almost begging the Angaran to see reason.

“Like here on Kadara?” she challenged back. “Sloane lies to my people and uses them for power.”

“I’m not Sloane!” Ryder argued.

“ _You are all the same!”_ screeched the woman, pure malice in her eyes, her voice, spilling out from every part of her. She raised her arm to bury the knife in Ryder’s heart, and the Pathfinder’s breath hitched in her throat. Hands still above her head, Ryder felt the familiar dark energy stirring as it built in her body, that old fleeting instinct that every biotic child had, watching as the knife fell as if in slow motion.

She heard a gunshot, and the Angaran woman cried in pain, the knife fallen to the floor. Ryder’s biotics had flared already, and she whirled around to see who the shot belonged to.

“Not so fast!” a familiar voice cried. Ryder turned- there was Reyes, charging into the area, gun drawn.

 “You’re late,” Ryder accused, crossing her arms.

“I’ve got a good reason!” Reyes said, momentarily glancing at the tendrils of dark energy that had filled Ryder’s space. “You’ll see in three… two…”

“Don’t just stand there! Kill them!” cried the Angaran, recovering from Reyes’ shot.

As the Roekaar readied to attack them, a small explosion went off in the back of the room, leaving Angaran bodies strewn about the room. A small few remained, the Angaran woman included, but they were enraged at the sight of their dead comrades.

Reyes glanced at Ryder, the light of amusement in his eyes. “Still mad?” he asked, earning a scowl from Ryder. She ignored him, rolling over for cover and grabbing her rifle from its holster. She took aim for the nearest Roekaar and shot through his chest, not stopping to see his body collapse on the ground. She glanced back to Reyes- his eyes met hers and he nodded, taking aim for another Roekaar.

Ryder smirked. There was no reason she couldn’t show off a bit for him.

She drew the asari sword from her waist, using the propelling force of her jump jets and biotics to charge the Angaran leader who was still screaming in anger. Moving faster than eyes could follow, Ryder plunged the sword through her stomach. The woman gaped, incapacitated, dying slowly- Ryder would not allow her a quick death. She charged onto a pile of crates to come down on her next target from above, then took aim with her rifle for the stragglers on the ledges.

As their leader died helplessly, the last of the Roekaar pressed on them harder, enraged. Her Carnifex trained on her next target, approaching with an anguished howl, killed quick.

Ryder spun. She was pretty sure she heard Drack laughing. Two Roekaar were lunging for Vetra- one from the front and another on her six, going for a sneak attack.

With an outstretched hand and a blue glow, the two Roekaar flew towards her and stopped just short, as if they’d slammed a wall where there was only space. Suspended in midair, held there by biotics, the warriors choked and sputtered for air. She clenched her hand into a fist, tightening her grip as they took ages to suffocate… then fell still. She dropped them carelessly onto the cave ground.

Everyone took a few moments to regain their breath before Reyes retreated outside. Ryder spared a moment to survey the room for survivors, and then followed him out with Vetra and Drack.

“You know I could have taken those two,” Vetra grumbled as she wiped the blood from her gun.

“Let the kid show off for her new boy toy,” Drack retorted. Ryder rolled her eyes.

They found Reyes waiting outside for them, an expectant glint in his honeycomb eyes. The neat lines of his dark haircut were apparent, lit by the warm glow of the badlands.

“The streets of Kadara are safe again. You did good Ryder.” Her chest fluttered again when he called her by surname, though this time she couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. “Don’t worry- I’ll let all the important people know who to thank.”

She met his smug eyes. He really was quite handsome.

“We make a good team,” she agreed, smiling.

“Careful,” he said, taking a few tantalizingly slow steps forward. “I’ll start thinking you like me.” He stopped, inches from her face, she turned to meet his eyes. 

“Would that be so bad?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her flirtatious tone for the others.

“Depends,” he said mysteriously, taking a step back. “Don’t be a stranger, Pathfinder.”

“This is disgusting,” muttered Drack, after Reyes was out of earshot. Vetra scoffed in reply.

-

When they returned to the Tempest for a rest and debriefing, Ryder took a long, hot shower. It’d been a day filled with grisly sights. A murder scene for one, not to mention the battle with the Roekaar had left her armor covered in questionable substances. Despite her several years of combat experience under her belt, it was still pleasant to unwind for a few minutes, especially since Kallo had given her some codes to bypass the limit for warm water.  

And then there was Reyes. He remained a mystery for the most part; the man had explained his intentions when they were at Tartarus, but Ryder still got the sense that something was missing. She wasn’t even certain how their flirtatious remarks had begun, but they certainly seemed to escalate every time they met up.

She shut the water off and dried herself, retreating to her quarters for a little while before making the nightly rounds. The room was extravagant- the large window made the whole room feel like her own personal observation deck. Even now, she could see the cluster’s black hole, its gravity pulling the surrounding light within.

After taking a moment to observe Heleus’ natural beauty, she fell into her desk chair and pulled up her e-mail console. She had two unread messages.

Ryder read the first message, titled “You’re making waves.” She smiled when she read the address.

_To: Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Spread word at Tartarus and in port of your expert handling of the Roekaar. I only made a few embellishments and left out my involvement, of course. Wouldn’t want to steal your spotlight._

_Not that I really could- you’re something else, Ryder._

_Reyes_

Ryder didn’t care for the way that last line left her face feeling warm, but she read the message a second time. And then once more, before skipping to the second unread message. As she read the address on this one, her eyes widened in alarm, the warmth in her face leaving almost instantaneously.

                _To: Ryder_

_From: The Charlatan_


	4. Chapter 4

_To: Ryder_

_From: The Charlatan_

_Sloane Kelly is a menace to Kadara, and I can prove it. If you seek an Initiative presence on Kadara, speak to a man on the dock named Grayson Wessler._

Ryder’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. She’d been wondering about the Charlatan’s shadowy identity since arriving on Kadara, but she hadn’t expected them to contact her directly. Reyes’ word must have spread quickly and fallen upon the right (or wrong) ears, at that.

It was obvious why the Charlatan would find the Pathfinder useful. There was little evidence, but Ryder had already undermined Sloane by helping Vehn Terev escape her prison, and word had likely spread about her first meeting with Sloane gone sour. She was making waves in Heleus and on Kadara, and the Charlatan would be a fool not to take advantage of that. Sloane Kelly was the fool, in that regard.

Ryder would refuse to admit it aloud, but the thought made her respect Sloane a little more for it. Since the Pathfinder’s arrival, many from the Milky Way were quick to grovel and try to get on her good side, but Sloane was different. Sloane didn’t care who she was. Sloane was proud, albeit foolish.

-

 “Think you can figure it out, Gil?”

Gil accepted the metal pad, raising a brow at the crusted grime covering it.

                “I’ve been looking over the kett tech we’ve found so far. May be a different galaxy, but physics still applies. I can get it running, but it’ll take some time… this thing’s pretty busted.”

                “Thanks, Gil. Let me know if you’ve got any updates.”

                “Of course. So… I guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

                Ryder piqued a brow, waiting for him to formulate his question.

                Gil didn’t have many tells- came with being an expert at poker, she’d imagine.

                “Going after this Archon, I mean. Do we… do we have a plan?”

                Ryder sighed, leaning against the console. “This is all new to us, Gil. We’re the pioneers. We’re the first. The plan is to pave the way and do everything we can.”

                Gil nodded curtly, focusing his attention to the transponder. “No plan, then. Good to know. Just don’t hurt my baby too much out there, alright?” he asked, giving the ship console a loving pat. 

                Ryder smiled, despite herself. “Only if you don’t keep thrashing me at poker.”

                “Oh, come on now Ryder,” Gil shot back. “Thrashing you at poker is my life’s true calling!”

                “Yeah, yeah,” she called, turning to leave the core. “Just let me know when that thing’s up and running, you dolt.”

                “Will do, Pathfinder. Oh, and, while I have you- who’s this Reyes guy I’ve been hearing so much about?”

                Ryder threw her hands up in the air dramatically, cursing Kallo and Peebee’s love of gossip. “He’s my new poker tutor!” she shouted before the doors shut.

-

                Liam yawned loudly, stretching to ease the aches from his neck. Suvi yawned as well, though considerably more discreet than Liam. Several cups of coffee and other caffeinated beverages were scattered about the room, Suvi’s magnetized mug sticking to the vidcom console.

                “Why’d the Pathfinder schedule such an early morning meeting?” Liam asked, looking about the room.

                “Better question is, why’d the Pathfinder schedule such an early morning meeting that she wasn’t going to show up to?” shot back Peebee, arms crossed. This was not what Peebee meant when she told Ryder that she liked to be kept on her toes. Cora stood straight and silent, ever the picture of military confidence.

                “Sorry I’m late, guys,” a voice called, running up the stairs. Ryder held a small datapad, wearing athletic gear. She looked fully alert- as if she hadn’t been sleeping at all. Chances were that she hadn’t. “I received a message last night that I wanted to get everybody’s input on. SAM?”

                The Charlatan’s message from the previous night displayed as a hologram in the center of the meeting room. The Tempest was silent while everyone read.

                “Think it’s a trap?” Cora was the first to respond.

                “Don’t know,” said Ryder.

                “How do we even know it’s from the Charlatan?” asked Peebee. “Nobody knows who the Charlatan is, this message could be from any old pretender.”

                Ryder said nothing, looking around the room to read everybody’s reaction. Most of the crew looked deep in thought, or had their faces scrunched up in confusion.

                “I don’t like this,” Jaal said. “Our business on Kadara is concluded, we should leave this festering blister of a port before things get any worse.”

                “The exiles are a problem for the Nexus, and if Sloane remains unchecked, they could become an even bigger problem. We have to investigate this, no matter the consequence. I say we talk to the guy,” Liam advised. He was the only one in the room who didn’t seem tense upon reading the e-mail.

                “Anyone speak to a Grayson Wessler while we were on Kadara? Or heard the name?” Ryder asked her crew.

                “One of the security guys, I think,” Vetra replied. “Works for Sloane if I’m not mistaken.”

                Ryder nodded slowly, weighing out the options. “Right… I’m going to find this guy. Peebee and Liam, be ready to go in case we need to leave the Port. I want my crisis guy if this goes south,” Ryder said, nodding in Liam’s direction. Liam did his best to give a professional nod, but didn’t do much to mask the pleased grin in response.

-

                “That man over there by the supply crates is Mr. Grayson Wessler,” SAM pinged through their private channel. Ryder glanced over at the man in question, he was wearing full Outcast gear and had a datapad in hand. He was pacing back and forth, biting his nails anxiously. She could hear him cursing under his breath. Not really what she’d expected at all.

                Ryder made her approach casual, as if she was simply wandering up to him.

                “Hey… you okay?”

                Wessler started in surprise at her question. “What? Huh? Yeah- of course!” he said unconvincingly, but his pacing didn’t cease.  

“Doesn’t seem like it,” she retorted.

Wessler looked in either direction, clearly very paranoid, then finally faced Ryder. “I joined the Outcasts a few weeks ago. Kaetus tasked me with collecting protection fees, and I thought it’d be easy. We talk to so many people… I got some names mixed up and ended up banishing someone who paid their fee.”

“What, they didn’t protest?” Ryder asked, taken aback. Charging people a fee for living in your city… Sloane was a real piece of work.

“Of course she did,” Wessler said quickly, face turning to shame, “but we didn’t listen. They all protest. I was going to look for her but I don’t want Kaetus finding out I screwed up. I need this job to feed my little brother…”

Ryder could barely help herself from rolling her eyes at the man’s sob story. “I’ll look for her,” she said. “Just tell me her name.”

Wessler sighed in relief, looking like he was about to cry. “Remi Tamayo,” he said. “Would have gone to the slums for processing.”

Ryder gave him a quick nod and left to find her team. Once she rounded up Peebee and Liam, who were both waiting at Kralla’s, they geared up and took the lift down to the slums.

“Pathfinder,” SAM said. “You’ve received another e-mail from the Charlatan. Shall I summarize it for you?”

“Wow, SAM can even read your e-mails?” Peebee asked, sounding surprised. “That’s going a little too far, if you ask me.”

“Go for it, SAM,” Ryder said, ignoring Peebee’s comment.

“Remi Tamayo was last seen speaking to Johan, the leader of a small exile gang. He’s been promising safe harbor to those who have been banished by Sloane. Included is a navpoint for Johan’s supposed hideout,”  SAM briefed.

“What, is the Charlatan keeping tabs on us or something? They must have eyes all over Kadara,” Ryder exclaimed, a little disconcerted by the prospect.

“Also included from the Charlatan is a warning,” SAM continued. “Johan is known to be dangerous. Exercise caution, Pathfinder.”

“Man, what is it with this Charlatan guy?” Liam asked, sounding frustrated.

“Or girl,” interjected Peebee.

“What do you mean, Liam?” Ryder asked.

“I mean, what’s he got to gain out of all this? Saving someone who was exiled from Kadara? If the Charlatan is the leader of the Collective gang, then rescuing civilians doesn’t seem to fit his MO.”

“Think about it,” said Ryder as they found the lift. “Remi Tamayo was exiled because she supposedly failed to pay Sloane’s protection fees, even though she did pay. If the Charlatan revealed this to the public, then they would be exposing mistakes among the Outcasts. Thus, undermining Sloane.”

“And this is our problem… how?” Peebee asked.

“We need to get this planet viable enough for an outpost, and the Charlatan might be able to help us,” Ryder answered for her, though it was obvious she didn’t like the idea. “Besides, an innocent woman’s life is in danger. We have to do something.”

As the lift to the slums descended, Ryder wondered just what exactly she was getting into.

The team passed Tartarus, could hear the deafening bass from yards away. Ryder briefly considered checking in with Reyes- he had offered her intel in exchange for aiding him after all. Maybe he would know something about this Charlatan character.

“What’s going on over there?” Liam whispered, seeing commotion in one of the alleys. The three listened carefully, keeping from sight.

                “The Charlatan wants you to remember who helped when nobody else did,” one of the exiles was saying, as he passed out bowls of gruel to the starving, sick people in the alleyways. Some were too sick to hold the bowl and it was set before them. Others snatched the food and dived in hungrily.

                “The Charlatan is handing out food? Why?” Ryder asked no one in particular, eyes narrowed in confusion.

The team moved along, leaving the gates and climbed into the Nomad, its’ shiny gold paint job glinting in the Govorkam daylight. Cora had recommended something a bit more covert, but Ryder quite liked the flashy look of the vehicle. Sure, it stood out- but that just let Ryder know where her enemies were.

Ryder fired up the Nomad and slammed onto the gas, shooting along the path and forcing Peebee and Liam to cling to their seats for dear life. The path wound around the rocky Kadaran mountains, but Ryder didn’t slow down for a single curve, much to the alarm of her team. If Liam didn’t know better, he’d be afraid that Ryder would steer them right into one of those burning sulfur springs.

Actually, that was a very distinct possibility.

“Staying sharp B’sayle?” Liam shouted over the loud hum of the engine, trying to distract from the thought of drowning in a sulfur spring.

“Like a tack, Costa. Want to sit on me and see?” she asked teasingly, giving him a wink. He flushed and, losing his grip, flew forward in the seat, earning laughs from both Ryder and Peebee.

After it seemed like Liam and Peebee had lost all the blood in their faces, the Nomad neared the navpoint that the supposed ‘Charlatan’ had provided.

“There it is,” Ryder announced. “Last known location of this Johan guy. Hopefully Remi’s inside. And alive.”

“Maybe they’re not as bad as the Charlatan made them out to be,” Liam said hopefully.

“Not holding my breath,” grumbled Ryder. So far, Kadara had not shown them too many kind individuals.

Ryder could see several sharpshooters positioned around the base and cursed silently. Several raiders had already seen their approach (thanks to the shiny Nomad paint job) and had their weapons trained on the Pathfinder team. She parked behind a rocky outcropping to give them some cover and leapt out from behind the wheel, readying her weapons as well. A small squad of three raiders approached, yelling nonsense, but they were quickly dispatched with the help of Liam’s grenades.

A bullet whizzed past her ear and Ryder snapped her attention upwards where one of them was aiming right for her. She lurched forward, sending a biotic wave that knocked the raider from his platform and sent him flying comically through the air, not waiting for the sickening crunch of his body falling against the rocks to dive right into battle.

Ryder forced her way under the main tower and saw a sharpshooter who hadn’t noticed her approach yet, sights trained on Peebee. Ryder sent a bullet through his head, spewing blood and bits of brain in all directions. She used a biotic pull to send a few more plunging from the platform, while her squadmates dispatched the rest quite easily.

“You know, for being ‘dangerous exiles’, these guys could have really used a few battle pointers,” Liam said.

“Too late for that now. Let’s find Remi,” said Ryder, moving for the tower’s stairs to find their woman.

As soon as they reached the top of the tower, Ryder crinkled her nose in disgust.

The room was covered in quarts and quarts of blood, rotted flesh everywhere. It looked to be a kitchen. There were metal countertops with a sink, pots and pans, all of it filled to the brim with severed limbs or meat.

“They were eating people?” Liam asked, clearly disgusted.

“What. The. Fuck.” Peebee said.

Ryder shut her eyes tight, trying to stop her stomach from lurching to no avail. Nothing in the Alliance could have prepared her for… whatever the hell this was.

With no reliable food source, with exiles and Initiative and everything in between at each other’s throats, this was the result. No good could come of the way things were right now on Kadara.

Strangled whimpers pulled Ryder from her grim thoughts. The cries were hushed as if the owner was trying to remain hidden, but couldn’t hold them back anymore. She traced the sounds to a cramped cell block in the back of the room.  

Ryder could easily have overridden the lock but she slammed through the gate with her biotics, angered by what had gone on in this room.

A woman gaped at her, filthy and bruised and bleeding, undoubtedly traumatized by whatever horrors she’d witnessed. She was tied down on the cold floor, shaking and crying. The sound of gunfire probably hadn’t been comforting.

“Please. Help me,” Remi moaned, huddled over on the floor. Ryder quickly cut loose her restraints and placed her hands atop Remi’s shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” Ryder asked. The woman looked completely terrified.

“They were going to eat me!” Remi cried, gripping onto Ryder’s arms with white knuckles.

“I know,” said Ryder, trying to comfort her. “You’re safe now. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” Remi argued. “I was banished to the badlands. I paid my protection fee!”

“I know,” Ryder said again, gentler this time. “The Outcast who kicked you out made a mistake. “I was… sent to rescue you.”

Remi said nothing but gave a shivering gasp in disbelief.

She glanced to Liam and he nodded, securing an arm under Remi’s knees and another under her shoulders, lifting her so they could escort her to safety. They were all eager to get as far away from this place as possible.

Ryder was alarmed to see a shuttle outside lowering to the ground, and her hand instinctively found the grip on her pistol.

“Who the hell is here now?” she growled, the dark energy of her biotics flaring.

The shuttle landed, and a team of exiles immediately disembarked, hands above their head to show that they weren’t a threat. Ryder’s team lowered their weapons slowly, but they didn’t let their guard down. The team began their approach.

“Hang on,” whispered Peebee. “I think it’s Collective.”

Ryder frowned, glancing hesitantly toward Liam. He shrugged.

“Hello,” greeted one of the Collective members, a salarian male. “We were instructed by the Charlatan to escort Remi Tamayo back to the port. Her protection fees have already been covered.”

Ryder narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why didn’t the Charlatan just send you guys to retrieve her?”

The salarian laughed disconcertingly, wide black eyes rolling in amusement.

“Call it a test,” he said vaguely. “Besides, I’m only following orders, Pathfinder.”

Glancing hesitantly at Remi, Ryder wondered how the Charlatan had worked behind the scenes so well.

Ryder wasn’t so eager to let them take the injured woman, but she noticed a medic in the shuttle preparing medi-gel for her and Ryder let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Liam was watching her expectantly, waiting for her order. She nodded and a turian Collective agent collected Remi from Liam’s arms. The woman was unconscious, murmuring nonsense somewhere far away.

The salarian agent gave her a final nod, boarding the shuttle with the rest of his team. Ryder stared as they took off, eyes glued until the shuttle had disappeared from the horizon.

“Well, that was sufficiently weird,” Liam mumbled as they watched the shuttle fly away. Ryder hummed in agreement.

The dance of Kadara’s politics was an unusual one, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could make up the steps as she went along.

-

                After the Collective ship arrived to pick up Remi Tamayo, Ryder was unsure of what came next. She needed to focus on getting an Outpost set up which meant finding and activating Remnant monoliths, but the planet had enough issues that needed solving besides the water toxicity. She wasn’t sure if she’d made the right choice, following the Charlatan’s leads. The shadowy head of the exile gang was completely anonymous, meaning she really had no idea who’d she’d just helped.

                The Charlatan was clearly intelligent and manipulative, though he seemed to care about the wellbeing of the people, at least when it worked in the Charlatan’s favor.

                “I want you two to go to the port and check out what’s going on there,” Ryder told her two squadmates after their trip back to the slums. “Let me know if you hear anything about Grayson Wessler, or what people are saying about the Collective.”

                “Will do, boss,” said Liam, eager to please. Peebee rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be too conspicuous, Liam,” Peebee scolded. The two had bickered the entire way to Kadara port, but Ryder had mostly been tuning them out.

“I’m not an idiot,” Liam protested.

                Ryder sought Reyes- well, she sought his input. He had proclaimed to be neutral between the two factions, but he must have some input. A drink wouldn’t hurt with her spinning head, either.

                She made her way to Tartarus once the group split and ordered the same drink she’d had last time- a Kadara Sunrise, the bartender had called it. As Ryder enjoyed her first sip, she heard a dark flanging laugh a few feet to her right.

                A turian was glaring disdainfully in her direction, earning a scowl from Ryder.

                “My my,” said the turian, stalking up to her, “Look who’s crossed my path, on a planet of exiles, no less. Pathfinder Ryder- remember me? The innocent man you exiled.”

                “Hello Rensus,” she greeted coolly, preparing to defend herself if he got confrontational. “So, you made your way to Kadara, I see.”

                “Not many other places to go, besides dead. Got to admit, Pathfinder, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if we crossed paths again. And now, here we are,” said the turian, drawling out the words. He had inched close into her personal space now, a cold look of anger in his eyes. She could have sworn he was growling.  

                Ryder felt the pulsing dark energy build along with the music- her hand had already found the grip of her pistol. She could feel a couple of curious eyes on the blue corona that now surrounded her, but she ignored them.  Rensus had attempted murder on his captain… who knew what he was capable of?

                “Don’t start something that you can’t finish,” she hissed, her whole posture rigid. Rensus’ mandibles opened as he tried to say something else, but the turian didn’t get the chance.

                “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said a familiar low voice behind them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just setting the scene for the story!! Expect regular updates Thursdays :)


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